In the interests of the renowned creator of MS Paint Adventures’ privacy, I won’t reveal where I was on that fateful day when our paths did cross. But if you follow the clues, you can more or less figure it out from the geographical features and other little hints. This was the day that I, Chaotica the Butterfly, spent following around Andrew Hussie himself.
It was a hot day in the city of (censored) and I paused on my journey to the city’s famous roller-skating rink/ library of records (the only one in the world) to have a cool drink inside a café. Through the window facing East I could see the waves crashing onto the pebbled shore and the palm trees rock in the breeze. I could already tell that this would be a day of mysticism and intrigue (mostly because all week had been that way).
I ordered an iced-chocolate with whipped cream and passed over the money to the woman behind the bench. The look on her face as I handed her a hundred-dollar bill could have been described as one of mild annoyance, but more accurately described as one of ill-disguised fury. In the long run I don’t think she minded much, since I didn’t stop to collect the change. For it was at that point that I looked out of the front window and saw Hussie.
There are a few things you should know about Andrew Hussie. Number one, he is part gazelle, so I had to be very careful that he did not notice me as I followed him. Number two, he has been known to vanish off the face of the Earth for days at a time if he feels threatened; the only evidence for his existence being his rapid yet irregular updates to the webcomic Homestuck. Naturally I would have to be very careful.
I left the café and a blast of cold air hit my face. This was especially surprising since a few paragraphs ago I said it was a very hot day. Authorial inconsistency notwithstanding I kept on down that dark, wintry road as I clutched at my heavy coat and sipped my hot chocolate. I could see that Hussie had not yet noticed me. He was making his way to the city center, no doubt in search of transportation into the mountains to the East, where I understand every internet comedian must make a pilgrimage once in their lives. Mine would come years later, but today was Hussie’s turn. Or so I thought.
Instead of turning right into the financial district for a rickshaw up the mountains, Hussie went straight on, on to the pet store that received so much media attention the following year after the escape of several marmosets and a fruit bat. I watched him as he went in and purchased an exotic bird, presumably for his stamp collection. When he exited the soon-to-be infamous postal office, Hussie pocketed the stamp and put on his sunglasses. I did the same, as the sun now burned with a new intensity. I was glad I dressed for warm weather that day.
I followed him down an empty street and almost lost him in the crowd. He paused and looked into the window of a book store that sold nothing but second-hand CDs. Andrew went inside and I decided to follow him, but ultimately I would have done anything to escape the blizzard, if only for a few moments. He went to the pop-rock aisle and I went to the adjoining English Literature section so that I could peer at him through the shelves. He was approached by a short, bearded man with a slight limp. Hussie acknowledged the woman as he continued to take out the David Bowie CDs from their cases and replace them with Homestuck albums.
“I hear the contraband is on the lily pad,” said the woman, flicking her hair back.
“Then the trolls must be at rest,” Hussie answered.
“Do you have the item?” she asked.
“Verily.”
He handed her the stamp he had bought at the pet shop and she gave him a coil of copper wiring in return. Hussie stared at it for a long time.
“Thankyou Bill. This act of kindness shall not soon be forgotten,” he said. I thought I saw a tear streak down Hussie’s face, but it could have been Bill’s.
The rest of the night continued in such a manner, with Hussie giving and receiving various gifts. At an all night disco he gave the wire to a woman in a sandwich bar, who then gave him a small puppy. The puppy was delivered to a waiter at a Laundromat, and Andrew received a small key the size of a jackhammer for his trouble. I watched as he used a pulley system to send the key up to the twelfth story of a bungalow, and a note was dropped down to him in return. By this time the sun was high in the sky and the stars were starting to come out.
Finally I saw him go inside of a small room off a side-alley. I looked through the crack in the door and watched him put the note on the table and take off his makeup to reveal the shining metal surface of his skin.
Wait a minute, I thought. People aren’t made of metal.
That’s right, dear readers. I had fallen for the trap that so many other Homestuck fans had been prey to. All day I had merely been following the infamous Hussiebot.
Damn you, Hussiebot!
As I left the swamp and returned to civilisation I reflected that if I had stopped stalking him before we reached the side alley this would have been a much better story. But I suppose that’s what you get with Hussie. The ending may not be the one you wished for, but through his surprise twists and endless trolling of the fans you get something much more…
You know what? Screw you Andrew Hussie.
chaoticathebutterfly 